


4:56 PM, Monday Afternoon at the Monsieur Valjean Household

by ravenously



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Javert is a Housewife, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 22:39:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10523370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenously/pseuds/ravenously
Summary: Sometimes, living with Javert was like walking on the very eco-friendly eggshells of hell.





	

Valjean walked into the kitchen. His feet were hurting, and all he wanted to do was pop open a Copa di Vino and curl up next to their fireplace that was made entirely of amethyst crystals (it opened up the room, Javert had told him, when telling him how much the project would cost and how much labor Jean, himself, would have to do) whilst reading a book, or catching up on Outlanders. 

Instead, he was greeted with the displeased face of his husband, Javert, standing in front of the fridge with his arms crossed over his chest. The redness of his angry cheeks bounced colorfully off the Apple-Green lime colored walls.

Jean stopped dead in his tracks, blinking in confusion. “Are you alright, honey?” 

“Am I- Am.” Javert huffed, and looked away, as though he was astounded that Valjean could ever ask that question. “Am I alright? You tell me. Do I look alright?” He was wearing his Sperry-brand boat shoes, with the blue button-up that he seemed to reserve for his most… Well. What Jean could only describe as his most ‘high-maintenance’ days. 

“…No. I’m just not certain why. It would help if you told me.” Maybe he would be forced to add ‘one hit from the pocket vape’ on his itinerary for the night.

Javert’s stance only tightened, his lips squeezing in the way that meant he was about to launch into yet another of his tirades. “You tell me.” With a flourish, he opened their chrome-plated, double-door fridge, complete with the pull-out freezer, and produced… A bag of Kraft cheese? 

“…Cheese.” Jean said. Javert merely stood there with the cheese in hand, offering no explanation and, indeed, no inclination to move, or progress the conversation, apparently. “It, uh,” Valjean said, after a moment, at a loss for words and resorting to the only thing he did know; taste in food. “It tastes good in quesadillas.”

“It tastes good in HELL!” Javert screeched, and threw the bag of cheese at Valjean to catch. He did catch the bag, of course, and Javert’s eyes were clearly momentarily distracted by the brief flex of muscle that was hinted at under his Calvin Klein green blazer.

Valjean sniffed, and said ominously, “You do not know of hell, Javert.” 

Javert blinked, and waited for an explanation. Without recieving one, he continued, “You bought Kraft™*. Cheddar cheese. To my house. To MY HOUSE.”

“It’s just cheese, sweetheart!” Ah. He knew where this was going now. There was no avoiding it now. And… Here it was. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I married Mansanto!” Javert’s voice could be grating on a good day. Standing here, in front of the open fridge, while he screeched at Valjean, it was just about unbearable. As though a 1980′s leather daddy had decided ASMR was his next big breakthrough. 

Valjean sighed, and dutifully turned around to throw the bag of shredded cheese into the garbage. He turned back to his husband. “There. See, Javert? All gone now. No more quesadillas for me.” 

Javert’s gaze went from the garbage can, to Valjean, to the garbage can again, before he said, “Just confer with me on these things. You know Kraft™ is the devil-”

Before he could finish his thought, one of their many children happened to walk by. Enjorlas. The one Valjean worried the most about and the one Javert doted on more than the rest. He seemed to have heard the tail-end of the conversation, for he marched into the room in his bio-degradable and earth-friendly sandles with all the confidence of a Victoria’s Secret model. “Did I hear you say something about Kraft™? Funnily enough, I was reading-”

Fuck. Valjean loved them both so very much, and held both of them dearly in his heart, but there was no possible way on this godly earth that he was going to get subjected to an Enjorlas Soapbox special, likely to last at least an hour, maybe more, if Javert was heated enough to get involved, as well. 

He gave both his husband and adopted son a borderline apologetic look before he snuck behind Javert, grabbed a Chobani Greek Yogurt (his second of his allotted two yogurts per-day) and his can of Copa di Vino, and hightailed it out of the kitchen. 

He’s let one of the other kids deal with the fiasco in the kitchen. He was having a dinner date with The Daily Show with Trevor Noah and going to bed.

*[AN: Both Javert and Enjorlas pronounce the ( tm ) portion of the brand name out lout.]

**Author's Note:**

> whattup im at tonycurtis on tumblr


End file.
